unfortunately, I missed the premier.

The works of Utopia Frederick

On Drunk Driving.

I AM SUPERMAN. I FLY AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT.
That is the way I feel tonight, at least. It's been another night under the bottle, the influence of heaven is soaking into my stomach. My liver can take it, at least for now. The lights are simply blurs, swirls of color. Nothing more. Nothing less. I see flashing blurs of red, white, and blue. I think of America, I pray it isn't the police. I have to be over the limit. and in this state that is under arrest. At least that is what the blinking signs say on the highway. By this time I am going at least 90 miles per hour. It feels so smooth, just as the whiskey I consumed earlier. Smooth and tasteful. Until tomorrow morning when it all comes back to me, sour spit, straight to the bowl, down the drain, cleaned off the bathroom floor. Bathroom floor is what I am hoping for. I haven't felt so alive in years, or more dead. I drink my weight in sorrows and my mind is cleared of all the wrong in the world. Everything in my bank account, my credit cards, my debt. Everything is nothing. Not when you feel this empty, not when you feel this full, of cheap liquor and bar nuts.

oh google.

New Works

SoI have been painting (not too intensely) and I have some work to hang at a coffee shop called Tazza Mia, located in West Chester Cincinnati, I hope yu guys go and check out the actual works instead of going by these lousy digital photos. Let me know what is up.

peterotica

ok, so this guy was working in a comic book store. and this totally hot cheerleader walks in, a girl cheerleader. and she says "hey do you mind if i get all naked and stuff?" and the guy was like "oh yeah, that sounds pretty swell to me." So she's all naked and stuff and starts to get all hot. so she kisses the guy all over his face and neck and stuff and then feels on his junk. he starts feeling on her big boobs and stuff. she asked him to take off his clothes, so he did. and then they totally did it. yeah.

who wants this dog?

ME!!!!!

ART IS POISON,

I have come to the conclusion that art is, indeed, poison.
It is a legal drug that will consume you, eat you alive, and regurgitate you in the form of a worthless, broke, and pathetic being.
You get a taste, thinking you want to make something beautiful, but you will just waste your time, money, and efforts.
If you are knowledgeable in the forms you could work a low paying job in an art store, where people who know what they are doing will ignore you, and those who do not will ask for help. The only answer you can muster up through your grinning teeth is that you shouldn't even bother fiddling with that garbage.
You will find yourself spending hundreds of dollars a year on supplies, in hopes that your dreams will one day come to fruition, but only end up miserable and poor. With a recession at hand art is the first to go. No one wants a picture hanging in their home, and even if they do they can probably find what they're looking for in a local superstore such as Wal-Mart, or Meijer.
So please, do not waste your time and emotion doing something that will not pay for itself.



Or do whatever you want, chances are I don't care what you do, just as much as you probably don't care what I'm saying.

Kevin.